


Need

by TakeMeOut



Category: Drop Dead Fred (1991)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 17:33:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14454312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TakeMeOut/pseuds/TakeMeOut
Summary: Elizabeth finally figures out what she needs from Fred.





	Need

**Author's Note:**

> This is set towards the end of Lizzie's dream sequence, just after she's freed her younger self and the child has disappeared.

Even in the midst of her confusion and fear, she can feel the warmth of his body behind her. The intensity of his gaze is palpable as he studies her with wonder and delight, and he breaks out into a broad smile when she wills the tree into being. And he’s behind her all the way, one reassuring hand on her back, as she confronts her mother and frees her younger self. 

She’s lost in thought, sitting on the bed, when he speaks. “I think you’ve done what you came here to do.”

She looks up from her reverie and realises how different he suddenly seems, as he leans unmoving on the doorframe, watching her with his arms folded across his chest. His voice is lower, calmer. For the first time, he sounds like an adult, and he’s watching her with an unnervingly penetrating gaze. 

She wonders, briefly, if she’s ever seen him so still, and a question occurs to her for the first time. “What actually are you?”

He shrugs briefly. “I’m whatever you need me to be. When you were a kid, you needed a friend so you didn’t feel so alone. And as a grown-up you needed someone to stop you being a total doormat. To help you realise how you ought to be loved.” He smirks, and there’s a hint of the manic mischief she’s so used to. “‘Course, with you, Snotface, the way of achieving both of those was exactly the same.”

She hardly hears the last sentence, as she thinks about what he’s said. Eventually, she looks up at him. “Do you love me, Fred?”

He snorts and makes a face, but it fades into seriousness as he opens his mouth to speak. “Of course I do.” She can tell he’s bitten back a good-natured insult at the end of his sentence, as though he can’t help old habits. 

He doesn’t move as she stands and walks slowly over to him. When she kisses him tentatively, he leans into it with his lips slightly parted, without seeming at all surprised. He deepens the kiss, and she sucks his tongue into her mouth as the hair on the back of her neck stands up. 

She leans her forehead against his, and as he wraps his arms around her she realises with a sudden jolt that she can feel his arousal pressing against her stomach, but he makes no effort to hide it. 

His voice is uncharacteristically gentle as he asks, “What do you need, Elizabeth?”

She hesitates. “I …” She bites her lip, unable to voice what she wants, and looks down at her feet. 

He lifts her chin. “Do you need me to show you?”

She kisses him again by way of an answer, harder and more urgently as he explores the ridges of her mouth with his tongue. She breaks off to catch her breath, gasping as she speaks. “Why haven’t we ever done that before?”

He huffs and stares at her as though she’s stupid. “Erm - maybe because you were eight most of the time we’ve known each other?”

She laughs, and begins to pull at the overlarge buttons on his jacket. He watches her intently as she undresses him; he’s more beautiful underneath the craziness than she could’ve imagined, firm jawline and smooth neck giving way to the lean, flat planes of his chest. She sheds her own clothes with urgency, and pulls him back onto the bed as he runs his hands up her body with a look of wonder on his face. 

He pushes inside her with a gasp and stills for moment, leaning his forehead against hers and breathing hard, eyes closed and brow furrowed as though concentrating. As he starts to move, his hips undulating smoothly, his clever hands slip over her body and quickly find the places that make her tense and push back against him with pleasure. She wonders for a moment where on earth he learned to do this so well, realising he’s an infinitely more complex being than she could’ve imagined, but quickly loses the thread of her thoughts as he licks at the underside of her breasts. 

He groans softly against her skin, a sound she’s never heard him make before, and it’s this above everything that tips her over the edge. He follows her quickly; afterwards, though he buries his face in her neck and places a line of loose kisses up to her ear, she doesn’t miss the flash of pain and sadness that briefly contorts his face. She opens her mouth to ask him what the matter is, but before she can speak he takes a deep breath and grins mischievously, raising up on his elbows to look at her. “Beats stamping on your head and pecking you.”

She laughs, and he kisses her lingeringly, and pulls her to her feet to help her find her clothes. She sits on the bed to put her shoes back on, and when she looks up he’s back where he was, fully dressed and arms crossed, by the door. He’s serious again, and there’s a wistfulness in his eyes. “You have to go now.”

She looks around her. “OK. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

“No. You have to go alone.”

She blinks. “But I want you to come back with me.”

“Well that’s just tough.” He gives a faint huff of laughter, but his eyes are sad. “You have to go alone. I can’t get back now.” She stares at him in disbelief as he goes on. “Look. You’ve got you now. You don’t need me. Not any more.”

“So …” He pauses, and although his smile masks an unspoken pain, she can see a hint of satisfaction at a job well done in his eyes. He shrugs slightly. “Goodbye,” he says, as his smile fades away. “Just kiss me, and say ‘Drop Dead Fred’.”


End file.
